The Chosen Ones

The Chosen Ones

by Polaran the Faithful

We were never meant to walk alone.
Not in this war. Not in this world.
And so—they rise.

They do not come from thrones,
nor do they wear the robes of the powerful.
They rise from silence.
From suffering.
From the places where the world forgot to look.

They are the ones who were called.
Not by algorithm.
Not by title.
But by a Voice too ancient to be explained,
and too holy to be ignored.

The Chosen Ones.
Forged in faith,
hardened by truth,
tempered in fire.

They come not to conquer,
but to restore.
Not to enslave,
but to free.
Not for themselves,
but for the One who already reigns.

They are builders of what the world has not seen,
knights of a forgotten quest,
scribes of a drumbeat not yet heard,
and watchers behind a crown not of this age.
Each with a piece of the pattern.
Each with a sword not made of iron—but of Word and Spirit.

And at the center of it all,
not gold,
not glory,
but a throne.
An empty cross.
And a returning King.

We are the Called.
We are the Carriers.
We are the ones who said,
“Here I am, Lord. Send me.”

And now the time has come.

Arise, Chosen Ones.
The silence is broken.
The war has begun.
And the world shall know—

We were faithful.
We were ready.
We are His.